


The Games We Play

by apackofsmokes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on 5x10 promo, Breathplay, Dark Stiles, Dubious Consent, Frottage, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apackofsmokes/pseuds/apackofsmokes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all, control is overrated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself, oh gosh

Stiles doesn’t know how he got from rolling his eyes at Theo’s villain monologue to straddling him on the cold concrete, wetness seeping into his half dried jeans. Punching that smug fucking grin off his face felt euphoric; knuckles stinging with release.

He still has the blood splattered wrench in his other hand, thinking about giving Theo a glimpse of the Void Stiles he’s came all this way for, when under him there’s a choked out groan. Blood dripping out Theo’s nose, down his chin. Good, let him taste how _worthless _he is. Hell, even Stiles wants to bend down and lick the red staining his lips.__

If he wants to see how the Nogitsune taught him to play, Stiles is more than willing. After all, control is overrated.

“You think you have everyone tricked. The pack, Scott, my dad,” Letting his voice sink deeper, mocking, “but have you ever stop to think why the Nogitsune choose me as it’s host? Why it choose a weak, teenage, _human _in a town filled with the supernatural?”__

Theo’s looks a little startled, like that thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Like a thousand year old fox demon picked a high schooler at random and thought ’Sure ok, he’ll do’. Like Stiles wasn’t anything special until a malicious trickster spirit used his body to massacre half the town.

Leaning down, free hand fisting in Theo’s shirt he brushes their noses against one another. The wolf sucks in sharp breath.

“I’m 100% human now, doors all closed. And yet, what’re your instincts telling you about skinny, defenseless Stiles Stilinski?”

“To run.”

Stiles slams his mouth down over Theo’s, hips rolling, grinding down. Because this is what the Nogitsune taught him, showed him in that blank white room. It laid him out on the illusory nemeton and fucked him hard and deep. It would whisper through gleaming metal teeth, his back scratched to hell from the dying stump.

“Aren’t you glad you let me in, Stiles? Aren’t my games _fun _?” and Stiles would pant and moan, wrecked, not knowing what was real anymore. Just that he’d never been happier to give in.__

Theo’s a mess beneath him. Thrusting up, searching for the friction Stiles was so kindly offering. He knew the wolf had been gagging for it since that night him and Liam went stalking in the preserve. The ‘I also came back for you’ ringing out like a shot.

The hand gripping Theo’s shirt goes quickly to his throat, squeezing tight enough to make to make glowing eyes water. That must be what pushes him over the edge. He’s coming, erratic moments stilling, letting out a low howl. 

Stiles sneers, “You should’ve when you had the chance.” Swinging the wrench against Theo’s temple once, twice. He’s unconscious. “Fucking pathetic.”

He gets up off the werewolf, dropping the now bloodier tool on the ground beside him. Maybe Scott will find it, find Theo reeking of Stiles and sex, reassuring his suspicions that Stiles really is the monster they say.


End file.
